


In Which Eggsy Is Not The Uneducated Chav

by 7CuteCreationImagination7



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Concerned!Merlin, Feels, Gen, I like these type of stories okay, I'm Bad At Tagging, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Platonic Relationships, genius!Eggsy, secret genius
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-10
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2019-03-16 02:19:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13626504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/7CuteCreationImagination7/pseuds/7CuteCreationImagination7
Summary: Hello!This is my first Kingsman fic so... idk.Warnings : Child Abuse, Child Trafficking,I hope you like it :) God bless, love you all :)





	In Which Eggsy Is Not The Uneducated Chav

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!  
> This is my first Kingsman fic so... idk.  
>  Warnings : Child Abuse, Child Trafficking,
> 
> I hope you like it :) God bless, love you all :)

Eggsy was not stupid. Sure, he didn’t know who the Prime Minister of Albania was, he didn’t care for discussions on philosophical ideologies ; but that didn’t mean he was stupid.

Assuming he was unintelligent was the mistake that people had made. The assumption of lack of education allowed him to get away with many things.

Even Harry had assumed he was — well not quite that bad. Harry had assumed he was of mildly high intelligence, with an IQ of 120 ish — above average but not spectacular.  
Enough to get a good job, earn a median amount of money, enough to live a priveliged but unimportant life. And Harry was the one with the most faith in him, the rest of the Kingsman, even Roxy thought him as a luck uneducated peasant.

They couldn’t be more wrong.

It wasn’t their fault, it really wasn’t. Classism had taught them, from the minute their toothless gums were fed the silver spoon, that people with his type of accent, fashion, hair etc was lesser in every way. And people who were lesser didn’t know how to hack into the government.

His file merely stated some minor felonies, high GCSE grades, high A-Level grades and a few school suspensions.

It didn’t bother to mention that he had completed all of his GCSEs age 12, or that he had completed school at age 16. It didn’t bother to mention his invitation to Olympic trials for gymnastics, long distance running, and judo.  
Not even his mother knew of his secret.

Dean had ensured that he wouldn’t succeed openly, hiding bruises, broken bones and small wounds would be difficult if he pursued an athletic career.   
And whilst he could technically get the police to come round with a few taps of his phone, he stopped short, knowing that his innocent mother would get dragged into the mess.

So he learnt how to act unimportant.

He learnt to look like he wasn’t paying attention whilst mentally memorising lessons. He learnt to hide flinches and how to take care of infants.

Then he called Harry. He begun training, emphasising his accent, his swagger.

Picking the pug was rather exaggerated, but according to the rolled eyes and annoyed frowns, he knew the facade was bulletproof.

When Harry died, he let the facade slip, and ignored his problems by doing pages and pages of mathematical equations to find out the probability of the events that had occurred in front of his eyes.

Merlin doesn’t comment on his ink stained hands, but mutters something about snapping a pen in frustration.

He decides to keep up the act — stronger than ever — because otherwise another thing would change, and he doesn’t like to think of his reaction to that.

So he smirks where he naturally would flinch. He acts confused when he want to sigh in exasperation, and makes crude jokes whilst he discreetly researches schools for Daisy on his phone.

Once the mess with Valentine is over, he wonders if anyone but his babbling baby sister will ever catch on.

He doesn’t wonder for long.

He is sent to dismantle a child-trafficking ring. Merlin states that it should take him two months to get sufficient information, and then six to properly dismantle it. And then an extra four to track down the children who have already been traded.

He has enough information within a week, and as much as he loves his mask, the thought of living those children suffering with no one to help, just as, if not more hopeless and desperate and powerless as h-  
No. 

He will not wait.

He infaltrates the ring, using the language and manner that his ex-spepfather had, and he is very quickly accepted as one of the leaders.  
( He spends twenty minutes a day using mouthwash in an attempt to get rid of the words that spray out of his mouth)

He discreetly asks the children where they are from, distracts the most violent adults and slips the children food at night.

He slips the police hints, gains the Bosses trust and teaches the children how to tug their bindings off.

A month after the mission was given to him, he has the children at a trustworthy police station, the bosses disposed of and the whole ring gone. The money is given to the children.

He sets off to find the people who have already been sold, and within the second month, they are all freed, and in their homes.

 

The way that the other Kingsman look at him tells him that they know. He tried to brush it off when he sees Merlin, greeting him with a 

“Hey boss wat’cha been up ta’?”

He knows the chase is up when Merlin just gives him calculating stare, and does not roll his eyes at the exaggerated cockney accent.

“ In my office please”

He follows, his rumpled suit, slightly untidy hair and slow swagger doing nothing to prevent Merlin’s cold yet confused frown.

“ You dismantled a child trafficking ring in a month, and cleared up all the damage in another month. This entire mission was meant to take you over a year, and yet you finish it in just over eight weeks. You are far more intelligent than you want to appear.”

He shrugs, wondering if Jamal and Ryan are free. It would be nice to be around people who don’t view unsolicited psychoanalysis as a pastime.

“ Wot d’ya want me t’say mate? I ain’t the idiot cockney tha’ y’expected. So what?”

“You have not undergone intelligence or psychological training, and yet you have surpassed the levels that even the most successful Kingsmen have achieved.”

“And?”

Merlin looked flabbergasted, when suddenly, his face went an odd shade of grey, as he muttered.

“ Eggsy, how did you get the children to trust you? These children were traumatised, alone frightened and… you were acting as one of their captors… they shouldn’t have trusted you …. unless… you were once one of them”

He felt the blood drain out of his face as his ridiculously fast memory decided to remind him of his chaotic childhood. Learning how to conceal bruises with makeup. Convincing the nurse that he had just failed down the stairs. Locking Daisy in her room when Dean was in a bad mood. Running to Jamal’s house with a stab wound and blabbing about some crazy mugger. Feeling the fists—

“Eggsy! Eggsy!”

He finally realised that someone was shaking him as he looked at Roxy’s concerned grey eyes. Hmm, someone in her family was a redhead, judging by her hair and eye colour…

“ Whatever, jus’ cuz i’m a bl**dy genius doesn’t mean my childhood sucked”

He ignored the open staring, the unbelief and the way that his voice was completely flat. He walked out, went to his room, and grabbed his pug.

Placing him on his lap, he began to learn. Russian was a good language to know, he thought, as he downloaded the C1 syllabus for him to learn.

The world may have knocked him down, but everytime it did, he came up fighting, with a new skill, a new knowledge, a new wisdom.

Eggsy Unwin was not one to be defeated.


End file.
